Shatter
by littledoggy
Summary: Natsume does not cry. Tears are a weakness, something he cannot afford in this cruel world. It is the smoke, he insists. Nothing more. Why, then, does he feel like his heart is going to break?


This fic was written on a whim…wasn't a fan fiction at first, but I realized I haven't updated for a long time and added Natsume's name here and there, tweaked some things, and made a new fic! Haha.

This one **disregards the manga**, because I vaguely recall that Natsume's past has been explained there. So please don't bombard me with stuff like 'It didn't happen this way in the manga', et cetera, because I warned you.

Done in present tense for a change.

**Disclaimer**: **I do not own Gakuen Alice nor any of its characters.**

**. Shatter .**

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He watches the grass sway in the breeze with idle air, posture relaxed and hands tucked into the warm confines of his pockets. It is a sunny day; clouds are but rough sketches in the sky, still soft against blue, and birds soar with their wings spread wide. There are a few tinier ones that dare not venture too high into the sky, choosing instead to twitter and trill near the bluebell patch, singing their hearts out.

To eight-year-old Natsume, it is a beautiful sight – not many scenes can rival the peaceful setting this secluded garden of his. Here, he is alone, free to explore the realm of his imagination without being interrupted. Oh, do not misunderstand; he likes Ruka's company very much, as well as that of Aoi's, but sometimes he feels as though he needs the personal space his garden offers.

It is cooler too, and quieter since it is some distance away from the bustling, busy village he lives in. A ten-minute walk from his house, in fact, and fifteen from his school. His skinny legs often ache from the exertion, but Natsume feels it is worth the sweat and pain. No one comes here. Natsume found it only by pure accident when he tripped over a protruding root and tumbled, rather ungracefully, into this sacred place.

At first glance it was little more than dull, with wild weeds growing amok in every nook and cranny – why, some of them were taller than he was! Nevertheless, he had fallen in love with its untamed, mysterious charm, and tended to it with care. Over a span of two years he trimmed the wayward bushes and pulled out the weeds, using shears when his little hands proved incapable of tearing them from roots up.

The flowers he left untouched to grow wherever they please. Natsume is satisfied with how his garden turned out – his childish heart swells with pride whenever he stands and surveys his handiwork. A man reaps what he sows: that was what he learned at school. But he is a boy, a young man; can that idiom possibly apply to him, too?

Because that is what Natsume wants. And that is what he seems to be getting right now. Taking a deep breath, Natsume closes his eyes and sighs.

Was he wrong to reproach his sister like that? Fire is a dangerous thing, after all…and he reprimanded her only out of concern. He can still envision her innocent ruby-red eyes, darkened with the flame of fury. Not literally of course – he knows better than anyone what a plume of fury looks like, having seen it with his own two eyes when he first awakened his alice.

He had been angry then, really angry. Something tickles the back of his mind – the situation seems familiar somehow – but he brushes it away as a figment of his imagination.

_Nothing is wrong,_ he tells himself, hugging his body in response to the growing cold.

Slowly, he sits up and blinks, ears attuned to the songs sung by nature's creatures. It is getting late, he realizes, getting up to leave.

_Mama __must be worried._

* * *

The moment he sets foot on the top of the sand-mound, he knows something is wrong. There is too much noise permeating the air, too much disquiet to ease his piqued curiosity. His feet stop scuffing pebbles to allow for better concentration. If he listens intently, he is sure he can hear screams, both muffled and shrill.

They are screams of absolute, unadulterated fear, and they send chills that jab at his heart. Without further ado he hitches his bag higher and sprints down the grassy slope, heading in the direction of his home.

He doesn't get far. An immense wall of flame blocks his way, and he takes a step back in terror. He can hear his hair frizzle and feel the pernicious heat of the flames, blowing, singing, burning everything in its dance.

_Papa! Mama! Aoi!_

He no longer knows the logical way of thinking – common sense has fled his mind along with the acrid winds billowing above the rooftops. There are too many people screaming, too many different noises, but above all the horrible tell-tale crackling of fire hangs over the village like a death knell.

Throwing away the last vestiges of his hesitation, Natsume takes a deep breath and plunges into the blaze, using his shirt as an insulator. It does nothing much to protect him from the heat, but it brings him past the curtain of flames, one step closer to home. Sight is of no use here – it is inhibited by a thick, dense cloud of dark smoke that clogs up his throat and makes him wheeze.

He continues, though, heedless of the agony leaking out from the depths of the fire. Getting home is his goal now, and Natsume doesn't want anything to sway him from it; not even the sounds of people dying as they roasted in an obviously alice-summoned flame.

He tries to stave off the feeling of dread that is creeping up to haunt him, because if he is right and the fire was caused by an alice, it means his family is the root of the problem.

No other villagers wield fire like they do. It belongs to them, the Hyuuga, and it flows in his very veins. That is what his mother tells him whenever he asks about his alice.

He runs on feet that hardly seem to touch the ground. Smoky fingers curls around his scrawny neck, strangling him, snagging his flying hair as though alive. It adds to his panic, and Natsume runs faster, well aware of the sharp pains shooting up his protesting limbs.

When he reaches his home, he can only stare in shock, eyes watering at the sight.

_It is the smoke,_ he tells himself stubbornly and wipes away the tears. _I am not crying_.

He steels himself and enters the house, noting the charred, formerly-pristine white walls, and the way the interior seems so much darker, and the way an invisible wind howls through his mussed-up hair. It scares him, but he goes on, heart set on finding his family; it is the only solace his small fingers can grasp.

He finds his father first, injured but still conscious. He cannot recognize Natsume, though, and remains prostrate, moaning in pain. A tear slides down Natsume's cheek. He denies it to this day, claiming it to be sweat, nothing more.

He runs further into the house, his every step echoing despite the loud crackling fire in the background. Where are Mama and Aoi? Every room is searched – oftentimes the smoke is so dense it clouds his eyes. He refuses to cry.

Still, that does nothing to quell the despair in his soul. His house seems endless now, marble floors stretching into infinity, distorting its perspective. He flies on winged feet, screaming '_Mama! Aoi!_' until he is hoarse. More tears fall down his dust-coated face---no, he is not crying. It is the smoke, only the smoke.

He finds them at last, two of them sprawled on the ground in a heap of clothes, flesh and blood. Lots of blood. Aoi's huge, glazed eyes look blankly at him, bleeding red, and he shivers. His Mama lies immobile and unmoving, her smooth skin ghastly pale where it is not painted with blood.

An anguished cry tears his throat. This cannot be happening! Mama, Papa, Aoi, Ruka…they _can't_ go! What will he do for the rest of his life? Rot like some miserable trash?

He takes his sister by the shoulders and shakes her limp body, not caring whether he is crying or not anymore. Her blood streaks down her face, soiling her pretty lace dress, running down her neck and disappearing under locks of black hair. Natsume cries her name, and Mama's, but neither respond.

Burying his head in Aoi's hair, he grips her tight, hoping to wake her from her sleep. She doesn't respond.

With growing dread, Natsume notices that she is cold to the touch. Mama too.

He whimpers miserably, one boy huddled with the rest of his broken family. He tries to piece the cause of this horrible nightmare (can he wake up soon? He really wants to).

Hesitantly, he probes his mother's corpse – there is no longer a heartbeat in her body – and let her lie on her back. What he saw repulses him.

Her entire front has been burnt away, through cloth and through skin, so badly that blood spilled in abundance from her gaping chest. He is sure it was a bone he saw just now.

Turning away, he retches and empties his stomach onto the floor. He hadn't wanted to see that…that gruesome _thing_.

But he takes some solace in knowing his mother died a quick death.

And what of Aoi?

He turns to her, but she is gone.

Uttering a cry of surprise, Natsume whirls round blindly to locate her.

He didn't expect to be kicked in the gut.

He crashes into the wall back-first, and he feels pain blossoming like a flower, reaching from his back to the very tips of his fingers. It hurts, and Natsume cannot help tearing up again. _What is it now?_ He thinks wearily.

His eyes latch onto a tall figure near the door. He is clad in full black, with a silver mask and pale skin as the only contrasting features. What caught Natsume's attention the most, however, is the little girl in his arms.

Her eyes are closed now; her blood tears have dried. But somehow, that made Aoi look more distant than ever.

"Who are you?" Natsume tries to inject more strength into his voice, but he finds he cannot – the smoke has clogged his vocal chords. A wave of rage and desperation bubbles up in his soul. Aoi is his only sibling.

He needed her, if only to say 'sorry'.

The man smirks. He does not answer.

Over the next few days Natsume will come to know his cruel name and his cruel hand, but the former will be withheld for another day. Of course, he knows none of this. He wants only his sister.

For now, he stares defiantly up at the empty eyes behind the silver mask, pulsing with every ounce of hate he can spare.

"Give her back." He says this quietly, his body quaking, surrendering to his sudden tiredness.

"No."

Natsume glares, and the stranger grins back. It looks feral, manipulative. He has never seen such a grin before. But who cares about the man's grin when the man has his sister?

"I---" Natsume's voice broke, and he forcefully pushes the tears back down. "I'll do anything. Just let her go."

He is now painfully aware of how much denser the smoke has become in the room; he can no longer see the man any clearer than blobs of black and pink. It seems to help the man as it shrouds him, nurturing an eerie, mysterious air that festers Natsume's frayed eyesight.

He doesn't know why he can still see the man's grin stretch even wider, but it scares him. Badly.

"Anything?" the man repeats.

Natsume can only nod.

He thinks he hears a chuckle, but dismisses it after a brief second.

"Hmm." The man pretends to ponder his answer, cocking his head in mock thought. Natsume holds back a whine – he is tired and his eyelids are starting to droop. He no longer tries to hide his tears. Exhaustion prevents that.

Why Aoi?

Why Mama? Why Papa; why everyone in this village? Why _him_?

Natsume allows himself a few more tears. His breath comes in ragged gasps now; it is a pain to even breathe. But that man…that despicable man just stands there like it is normal to inhale smoke. He hates him.

And when he wakes up from his fitful oblivion, he will learn to hate him even more.

* * *

The first thing he remembers seeing is white. He wonders if he has ascended to heaven, but discards that upon hearing the faint _beep, beep_ of a machine. Somehow he doubts Heaven is techonology-orientated.

He tries to call out, but his throat is parched and cracked from disuse, and only a rasping noise comes out of his mouth. Still, someone has seen him. He can hear footsteps approaching.

"Are you awake?" someone says. A female, gentle and docile. She smiles at him and helps him drink from a straw, for which he is grateful. The water soothes his burning thirst, and he almost slips back into slumber. He forces himself to stay awake.

"Where am I?" he asks with some difficulty. He recognizes some of the equipment, just enough to know where he is – a hospital of some sort. The monitor beside him continues to beep into the silence.

The nurse laughs kindly. "You're in a hospital," she says. "Welcome to the Alice Academy."

Natsume's eyes snap open in shock. He sits up immediately, wincing at the excruciating pain that bind his limbs.

"Aoi! Where is she?" he cries, struggling against the nurse. "Tell me!"

The nurse looks bewildered and perplexed. It doesn't take her much to restrain the weak child, so she spares some thought for his question.

"Only you were admitted into the hospital," she tells him gently. "Who is Aoi?"

But Natsume does not answer – he utters a cry and begins his struggles anew. Aoi, where is she? That strange man promised to give her back to him! He promised! He…

…did not promise anything, because Natsume had blacked out.

Natsume chokes back a sob and sags back into his fluffy pillows. All the fight leaves his battered body. How long has it been since he fainted? One day? Three?

He does not know anymore.

The nurse lets go of him, worried. "I suppose I can always ask Persona for you," she suggests half-heartedly.

"Who's Persona?"

"Hm…I don't really know how to explain. He's rather hard to find, too."

Natsume turns away and curls into a ball under the blankets, ignoring her. If it is not news about Aoi or her kidnapper, he does not wish to know.

He sighs and clenched his fists, willing himself not to cry. He has cried enough.

* * *

It is a while before Natsume sees the man again, though that is partially his fault for sneaking out and struggling before his injuries manage to heal. Much to his dismay, he is inducted into the Academy and introduced to the teaching staff by one annoying, talkative Narumi-sensei.

Murmurs buzz around him, but he ignores them in favour of brooding. He feels horribly _empty_. His whole village is gone, along with his family and everything Natsume has become familiar with. Except Aoi. He clings to Aoi as a lifeline; she is the only thing that connects him to his past now, a past he desperately wants back.

Narumi-sensei shows him his way around the Academy, showing him the main classrooms, the dormitories, and the great forest that ensconces them all. Natsume turns a deaf ear and a blind eye to them. Why should he care? He doesn't plan on staying anyway.

A sudden pause in Narumi-sensei's exuberant speech makes Natsume halt and look up. They are walking along a corridor now. No students are about – Natsume assumes they are in class since it is daytime. A lone figure stands in the middle of the corridor, though, and it is to him Natsume's eyes is drawn.

His heart skips a beat.

"Ah, Hyuuga-kun, meet Persona!" Narumi-sensei says, unaware of Natsume's shock.

The other man apparently recognizes Natsume too, because he saunters towards the pair, smirking.

"Narumi." He inclines his head a little bit. "And who might this be?"

"He's Hyuuga Natsume, a new student," Narumi-sensei replies, but Natsume hears the dampened tone in his voice. He clearly dislikes Persona.

"Charmed." Persona looks at Natsume through his silver mask. "You look interesting, boy. You'll be a good addition to my team."

"Never!" Natsume snarls, unable to stop himself. "Where's my sister?"

He sees Narumi-sensei stiffen out of the corner of his eye, but he is too focused on the Persona guy to care.

Persona's smile widens. "Sister? What sister?" He drawls this in a sibilant manner, provoking Natsume on purpose.

Natsume takes the bait. He screams in anger, his crimson eyes blazing. In the blink of an eye, Persona's coat catches fire, engulfing the man in a concentrated inferno.

He appears undeterred, however, and merely shrugs off his coat before grinning.

"Yes, definitely my type," he says, satisfied. He walks past Natsume without another word.

Natsume growls and runs away, heedless of Narumi-sensei's calls to return. He is beyond angry.

Persona lied. That cheating, manipulative _bastard_…how dare he!

Trees whiz past him in a blur as ran deeper into the forest. Oftentimes branches would smack him and scratch him, but he continues running, flying on rage.

Then he stumbles over a hidden stone and lands on all fours. Natsume fists the dirt and screams again.

Fire erupts at once, greedily eating everything in the vicinity and beyond.

It is a long while before Natsume calms down out of weariness, having spilled most of his anger into his flames. He collapses, trembling, on the ashen forest floor, and slowly the darkness consumes him.

Persona nudges the unconscious boy with his boot. He smiles again.

"You will work for me, Natsume-kun," he says softly. "You'd do anything for me to let her go, right?"

He chuckles and strolls away from the charred greenery, carrying the lifeless body carelessly over one shoulder.

A lone tear streaks down Natsume's face and disappears into his hair. But when he wakes, he will deny this.

It is sweat, not tears. Nothing else.

….

**. owari .**

I'll admit, this isn't my best fic. Could've done a lot better, but oh well.

That said, please read and review! SfSM12 will be updated when I'm at least slightly pleased with how it went….


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